


Unforgettable

by thedevilchicken



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, First Meetings, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Lando Calrissian is a memorable guy. But what Poe remembers about him isn't quite what everyone else does.





	Unforgettable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Themisto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themisto/gifts).



> A note on the AU aspect: this assumes that after the Alliance defeated the Empire, Lando went back to Cloud City.

When the transport ship's boarding ramp swings down, when it hits the ground with a clank and General Calrissian disembarks, the hangar's not quiet because the hangar's never quiet. 

There's too many jobs still up on the board that they need to get done for there to be any kind of real quiet in there, Poe thinks, at least not during the day. Sometimes he goes out there with BB-8 in the middle of the night 'cause it's quieter then, just a couple of enterprising mechanics burning the midnight oil and a droid or two whizzing by going who knows where but going there fast, and when it's quieter he gets to clear the clutter out right of his brain and get some work done. His X-wing is a constant work in progress, putting in new parts he's scrounged or traded, a tweak to the systems here and there, though he guesses it's got less to do with performance and more to do with how he finds it hard to sleep sometimes. The work helps, or sometimes it does. At the very least it keeps him busy.

The hangar's not quiet when the general disembarks, but people turn to look - they look at him the way they do when it's General Organa, the way they do with all the old war heroes. Poe looks, too, as he's taking off his helmet, fresh in from escort duty with his squadron. They shot down two stray TIE fighters getting the general to the base from the rendez-vous somewhere out by Naboo, but that's just how the job is and it's not like he does it 'cause it's fun - he likes to think fun is why he _flies_ , not why he kills, and adrenaline and knowing he's doing what's right in the long run takes care of the rest. But he doesn't resent it, not the job 'cause that's necessary, not even the TIE fighters, even less so 'cause he knows General Calrissian flew the transport ship himself. Poe knows the general figures if anyone's gonna risk their neck for him, he'll be right there with them.

People turn to look, and what most of them see striding through the hangar is the hero. They see General Calrissian who was there at Taanab and at Endor, Gold Leader who helped the Alliance bring down the Empire. They see a kinda distinguished-looking older guy with gray in his hair and a smile pretty much never far from his face, in a cape that would probably look kinda dumb on anyone else - like a kid playing dress-up - except somehow it looks good on him. They see the Baron Administrator of Cloud City who's kept the tibanna supplies flowing, and, if they're high enough up the food chain, some even see the operative who's still feeding them intel whenever something juicy comes up. 

When the people in the hangar look at him, they see the things he did for the rebellion, with Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, Han Solo and Chewbacca and all the others who are more legend than reality these days. That's what they see 'cause that's what they remember, whether they were there back then or they've heard the stories since. 

But Poe remembers something else. 

\---

Poe still remembers the first time he met Lando Calrissian. 

To be fair, the general is a pretty memorable guy; Poe doubts too many people who've ever met him have forgotten the first time, or pretty much any time after that. After all, Lando Calrissian may have been a whole lot of different things to different people over the years - smuggler, conman, entrepreneur, Alliance hero, city mayor - but one thing's never changed: he's for damn sure the kind of guy you remember. 

The first time, Poe had a mission. General Organa tasked him with it personally and he said he wouldn't let her down: he'd head out there to Bespin and he'd meet with General Calrissian on behalf of the Resistance, and he'd bring back the information he had for them. Of course, he couldn't just hop into his X-wing and fly himself all the way out to Bespin. Even if he'd've been willing to try it - rumors were Luke Skywalker had taken his X-wing all the way to Dagobah once, but they conveniently didn't say where he'd started from or how he hadn't gotten wicked cramps being stuck in the cockpit all that time - the ship just wasn't meant for that kind of distance, at least not without a break to stretch his legs every now and then. And then there was the fact the First Order was active in three of the five neighboring systems and who knew where their spies might be. Sure, maybe the general and the other mining colonies' leaders had gotten together and fortified Bespin, but that was to keep _themselves_ safe; flying into Cloud City in a Resistance ship would still have been pretty much suicide. 

So, he went in undercover. He'd've felt less totally ridiculous going in as a freighter pilot or a tibanna miner but the intelligent division set him up as some kind of a gambling high-roller, complete with a whole stupid wardrobe that made him feel more like a bad actor in some crappy cantina stage play than an undercover operative. Poe has always been more at home in a flight suit or maybe combat pants and a leather jacket than the weird, tight-fitting shimmery stuff they put him in for the mission. But then he'd never exactly been rich, so he guessed he wouldn't've known till he tried it on. 

His papers called him Poe Tildarian and said he was from Socorro, from someplace outside of Vakeyya. He'd been to Socorro once - odd place, he thinks, weird red light, though he guesses that's what you get when your nearest star is a red giant. He remembers kinda liking it, though, the rough edge to it, the bluff people, definitely not military of any kind 'cause he knew military. He remembers how a couple of guys in a bar had tried to cheat him at cards without a whole lot of success, the fight they got into, but he's still got fond memories of the place even so, something about how the Empire had barely even touched the place, let alone the First Order. He figured he could play Socorran if he had to, but when he boarded the luxury transport on Corellia and headed out to Bespin, he still felt like a total fake. 

The first night on Cloud City, he understood why they hadn't sent him in as a miner. Turned out rumors of the city's luxury resort weren't exaggerated at all and if he was gonna get anywhere close to General Calrissian - technically _Baron Administrator_ Calrissian, he guessed - without arousing suspicion, he really needed to be way out of the mining plants and refineries down below and enjoying the view from the top. His quarters when he got there were basically a damn palace all by themselves - you could've fit his whole squadron in there, he was pretty sure, with at least a couple of their ships and all their astromech droids. 

So, he checked in, would've wondered if he'd gotten turned around and wandered into the wrong room if a cheerful porter hadn't led the way, spent an hour having a pretty satisfying encounter with a bathtub the size of a swimming pool, and there he was, later on, dressed up like a total jackass and gambling the night away with credits the Resistance had reappropriated somehow and then allocated to his assignment. Wow, it felt weird to be spending Resistance credits that way. All he could think was the information the general had must've really be worth something.

But the general didn't turn up and eventually even Poe was tired of kicking everyone's ass at a whole variety of card games like they'd never had a reason to develop a bluff, so he went back up to his room. Room _s_ , plural, he guesses, since the place he was staying wasn't like any of the really, _really_ less classy places he'd stayed before, places with a bed and a stained sink that might have hot water if you're lucky and sludge like the rainy season on Endor if you weren't. But he couldn't sleep so he slipped into some of the less flashy attire he'd managed to persuade Intelligence to pack for him, and he slipped out of his rooms and slipped down twenty or so levels, maybe fifty. He went down till the bar he walked into was less rich tourists and more tired workers, less scantily-clad Twi'lek waitresses and more gruff bartenders who'd tear you limb from limb as soon as look at you. It felt a whole lot more like home. Life in the Resistance sure wasn't glamorous, at least not usually.

Poe was on his third drink an hour later, taking his time as he people-watched and thinking maybe it was time to give sleep another try when someone sat themselves down on the empty bar stool next to him. When Poe glanced that way, just the corner of his eye the way he'd been taught by the over-suspicious guys from Intelligence though it always felt like everyone in the whole damn room saw exactly what he was doing, it was Lando Calrissian. He was sitting there big as life, dressed down for the occasion just like Poe was. He looked just like anyone else there, except Poe knew damn well he wasn't. 

"I don't think I've seen you around here before," the general said, angling himself toward Poe on the stool with just a hint of a smile. "Are you new in town or do I just need to find myself a new eye doctor?"

Poe turned to him, glass in hand. "I'm gonna go ahead and guess your eyesight's just fine," he replied. "I'm just here for a couple of days on business. Y'know, tibanna. Everyone's gotta have tibanna." 

"Really?" the general said, brows raised as he leaned pseudo-casually against the bar top. "Because I could've sworn I saw you tonight, forty levels up. You're one of those fancy types flashing their credits all around the place, am I right?" He leaned a little closer, narrowed his eyes suspiciously though the smile there at the corners of his mouth said he didn't mean it, not one little bit. "Say, weren't you wearing a cape?"

Poe groaned out loud. "Yeah, you got me," he said, sitting back, holding up his hands though his glass was still in one of them. "And what can I say, a friend told me capes were back in style."

"I'm pretty sure capes were never in style, so your friend's either stupid or he's Lando Calrissian," the general said. "Not that those two things are necessarily mutually exclusive." 

Poe grinned 'cause it seemed like the thing to do, wondering what the general's game was 'cause him being there was too much of a coincidence for him to _not_ know exactly who Poe was and why he was there, and it wasn't like he couldn't've just found him in his huge, palatial suite or contrived a reason to chat in the casino or something less dramatic. Except Poe figured whatever, he could play games, too, and who knew, it might even be fun. He was already having a whole lot more fun just chatting with the guy than he'd had playing cards, after all, and they'd been talking for all of two minutes or less. Besides, if Intelligence Division were going to make him wear capes, he was for damn sure getting some sort of compensation out of it.

"You know Calrissian?" Poe asked. 

The general shrugged. "We all kinda know Lando Calrissian around here," he said. "Likes to walk around like he owns the place, y'know?"

Poe's smile broadened. "Yeah, somehow I can imagine," he replied. "But, I mean, doesn't he kinda own the place?"

The general chuckled. "Sure, kinda," he said. "I heard he won it in a game of cards."

"He sure must like to play games," Poe said, smile still firmly in place. "Say, can I buy you a drink? To say sorry for inflicting the cape on your unsuspecting eyes." 

"Well, I guess that'd be a start," the general said, and he flashed him a smile, and so Poe flagged down the bartender and ordered two drinks and in the meantime, the general reached over, took Poe's current glass and finished what was left in one. Poe laughed. The general grinned and pushed the glass away said, "Hey, it looked like you got a head start. I'm just catching myself up." Poe guessed that was as good an explanation as any. The general certainly wasn't shy.

Poe really can't say what he expected when he was sent to meet General Calrissian, but he guesses that night wasn't it. Lando Calrissian was nothing at all like General Organa; he was relaxed, easy to talk to, kinda charming, kinda funny when he wanted to be, and one drink turned into two then three and Poe knew he'd really had enough, knew he'd had too much, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a conversation that wasn't all about a job they were doing, a mission they were planning, ship repairs, practice manoeuvres, Snoke and the First Order and finding Luke Skywalker. Maybe they could've talked about that, maybe they _should've_ talked about that, but they talked about Socorro instead 'cause it turned out that was where the general came from as well as Poe's weird alias, about a bar the general remembered that Poe had been to once upon a time. 

"Man, last time I was there I met a Twi'lek there with lekku as long as your arm," the general said, demonstrating the length of his arm pretty precariously with glass in hand, halfway to drunk, and Poe had to guess he hadn't gotten as much of a head start as he'd been led to believe. "We didn't leave the ship for three days straight and I missed the meet I'd set up with the spice traders and got my stupid ass chased off halfway to Llanic. But boy, he was really something." 

Poe raised his brows and sat himself up a little straighter. The general laughed. 

"Don't worry, kid," he said. "I'm not gonna hit on you. At least not unless you want me to." 

He waggled his eyebrows ridiculously and made Poe laugh out loud but it was way too late to really laugh it off by then; the idea was already in his half-drunk head and it was going nowhere fast because hey, maybe General Calrissian was older than he was, maybe he was twice as old as he was, who really knew and he wasn't about to ask, but Poe had never really cared about age and the guy was _charming_ and c'mon, it wasn't like Poe was immune to that, drunk or not. So they talked about Cloud City and casinos where the rich tourists liked to play. They talked about a game of sabacc the general had played in a bar in Mos Espa once, a game he'd played with two Imperial Stormtroopers on Corellia with about three tons of illegal fruit in his cargo hold like that was how he wanted to go out, and Poe chimed in with a winding tale of strip sabacc with a freighter captain one night somewhere on the Triellus trade route someplace out near Teth and the general looked at him, intrigued. 

"Female captain?" the general asked, not totally offhand. 

"Male captain," Poe replied. "Guy from Socorro. Tall. Had a mustache. Kinda liked the sound of his own voice but y'know, I could forgive him that." 

The general laughed. He shook his head. "You're flirting with me," he said. 

Poe grinned. "Well, I'm trying, sure," he replied. "How am I doing?"

The general shrugged, the look on his face saying he was giving that his careful mock-consideration. 

"Good effort, I'd give it a six out of ten," he said, trying not to smile. "Now I've really gotta grab some sleep before I just pass out at the bar." He finished off his drink and put down his glass, and leaned over to squeeze Poe's shoulder. "But how about you meet me here tomorrow night and you give this another try?" 

"Sure," Poe said. "I'll look forward to it." And the general gave his shoulder one last squeeze, winked, and was on his way. Poe left not too long after, pretty much just wondering what had just happened; he really can't say what he expected when he was sent to meet General Calrissian, but he guesses that night wasn't it. Not by a long shot.

Still, after a few hours' sleep and a day of really conspicuous luxury up on the top levels of the city, browsing stores he'd've ordinarily been tossed right back out of, lunch in a restaurant more expensive than any ten to twenty normal Resistance meals, wearing the cape because really, why not, Poe was ready for a second meeting. He was more than ready for a bowl of some kind of cheap stew he grabbed from a stall on a lower level promenade instead of a candlelit dinner, grabbed a couple of parts from a trader he might be able to use on his X-wing's comms array, then slipped into the bar to listen to a band of Bith play old Figrin D'an songs while he waited. Which was fine, except the kloo horn was just slightly out of tune.

Then, eventually, the general joined him on the next stool. He borrowed Poe's glass and downed what was left in it with a grin. 

"I'm pretty sure I didn't have a head start this time," Poe said, giving the rim of the glass a quick flick to make it ring. 

The general shrugged. "The day I've had, I needed it more than you did," he said, but the smile on his face said he'd done it just because. Still, who knew what a day in the life of a Baron Administrator was like; Poe wasn't totally sure he wanted to find out, since he was having enough trouble keeping up the life of a rich Outer Rim trade magnate on vacation to Bespin. 

Poe ordered them a couple of drinks and they drank them, sitting there at the bar, chatting just like they had the night before. Poe kinda wondered when they'd get around to the point, the Resistance information he'd been sent there for, but he figured they had time; the next transport back to Corellia to meet the transport to Socorro to meet his ride back to the base wasn't for a couple more days and anyone else, they'd probably have looked at it like a well-earned vacation. 

After the second drink, they shifted out to a booth across the room. Apparently the eclectic mix of humans and Ugnaughts and Rodians and Bith didn't know or didn't care who the general was 'cause no one even batted an eyelash in their direction and they sat there, drinking, listening to the band, talking about how the general had seen the Max Rebo Band play on Tatooine once upon a time and Poe might've said something about how they'd been so famous back then that even he knew who they were.

"You trying to say I'm old?" the general asked, smirking, trailing one fingertip around the rim of his glass. 

"Maybe I'm trying to say you're experienced?" Poe replied, grinning as he swirled the liquid in his glass. 

The general applauded appreciatively. "Nice save, kid," he told him, and shuffled forward in his seat, leaned on the table on his elbows. "So, you want to talk about my _experience_?"

Poe laughed. The general grinned. And they talked about _experience_ , about how they'd each learned to fly though the general carefully didn't actually mention Han Solo, about the war, trade routes, spice runs, a trip to Corellia and a bet where the general had wound up in bed with a Zabrak who'd bruised him with his horns kinda like a meat tenderizer except somehow that'd worked out anyhow. Poe hadn't laughed so much in months. The general seemed to appreciate his amusement. 

Then, after one last drink, the general left with a wink and a promise he'd be back the next night, too. Poe honestly couldn't say he minded. 

The next day, Poe took a tour around the open-air walkways, the breeze getting his cape all tangled up around his arms till he just took it off and considered tossing it over the side. He had lunch brought to his suite and spent some time working out in there, spent some time in the bathtub again 'cause he could really get used to more than the cursory showers they got in the Resistance barracks, then he wandered down forty levels, maybe more, who was counting. The general was already waiting when he got there, in a booth, a bottle and two glasses on the table, listening to the same all-Bith band that was apparently there all week. 

"You're late," the general said, looking faintly amused. 

"Pretty sure you're early," Poe replied, and he slipped into the booth. "Did you start without me?"

"I don't usually drink by myself," the general said, starting to pour the drinks. "Maybe if you'd stood me up."

Poe raised his brows. "I have a feeling you're not the kind of guy that gets stood up all that often," he said, and took his glass. "Are you telling me you weren't expecting me?"

"Oh, I was pretty sure you'd be here," the general said. "You're having too much fun not to."

"Hey, I'll drink to that," Poe replied, and he raised his glass, and so did the general. It was the truth; sure, he had to be there for the mission, but he was having _way_ too much fun to quit now.

They talked. Poe took off his jacket and he made himself comfortable, leaning back against the back of the booth, and they talked, they told stories, they drank, they drank some more, maybe too much and maybe that was stupid because who knew if there were First Order spies in Cloud City watching them right at that moment. But the general seemed relaxed so Poe tried to take his cues from him and they ordered a bowl of nuts, sat there laughing at each other's crappy attempts to toss them in the air and catch them in their mouths like they were idiot kids and not both grown men. It might've worked out better if they hadn't drunk so damn much, he guesses, but they'd drunk so much that doing well wasn't really the point.

"So, how am I doing tonight?" Poe asked, flashing a smile once he'd managed to catch one and not have it bounce straight off his forehead. 

"You mean the nuts or the flirting?"

Poe shrugged. "How about both?" 

"Well, you shouldn't be allowed near a nut," the general replied. "You're a danger to yourself and others. You know how many people's eyes you nearly took out just now?"

"So I solemnly swear I won't turn pro at the nut thing," Poe said, crossing his heart though he'd got a glass in his hand. With three nuts at the bottom of it, as it happened. He took a sip anyway. He raised his brows, resolutely _not_ kinda nervous. "And the flirting?"

The general looked at him over the table, with just a hint of a smile. "Tell me again about that freighter captain?" he said. 

"You mean the one who really liked the sound of his own voice?"

"Sounds dashing." 

"Sure, and he looks real good in a cape." He leaned forward on his elbows. "You want to hear more?"

The general chuckled. "How about you take me upstairs and then ask me again?" he said. 

So Poe did just that - he slipped out of the booth and waited for the general to follow, then he led the way upstairs wondering what exactly in the name of all that was stupid he thought he was doing. Or he would've if he'd been able to walk straight and they hadn't spent the next fifteen minutes walking into each other on the way back up to Poe's suite.

He totally should've known better and maybe if he hadn't been pretty drunk that night, the drunkest he'd been in months, he would've. Or maybe he did know better but the fact he hadn't gotten any for the past six months had made him stupid, or maybe he was just as susceptible as the next guy to Lando Calrissian's infamous charms. Whatever it was, they wound up in Poe's suite with the lights turned down low, laughing at each other, the general pouring drinks and missing the glass, and Poe caught his arm and licked the spilled liquor off his wrist. The general took off his booze-soaked turtleneck. Poe took off his jacket. Poe took off his shirt. The general took off his undershirt. And they knocked back what was left of the spilled drink, a mouthful for each of them from the same glass, first the general then Poe, so when they kissed after that it tasted of it. Poe really wasn't complaining. It was good liquor, and boy did General Calrissian know what he was doing with his mouth.

It was kinda stupid considering his mission but there they were. The general kissed him and Poe kissed him back, hands everywhere, because he figured why not, it wasn't like it was against the rules, it wasn't like there even _were_ rules about this, considering the general was technically considered a civilian. They kissed and they tripped over Poe's discarded jacket and they tripped over the general's discarded shirt and they wound up knocking over the bottle and pouring the damn stuff all over the floor and all over Poe's pants and the general laughed and went down on his knees. He licked Poe's bare abdomen as he unbuckled his belt and Poe clutched the liquor cabinet and held on for dear life 'cause he was _not_ explaining how he wound up with a head wound and a concussion in a luxury suite when he got back to the base. He was not explaining this to anyone.

The thing was, he really had met a freighter captain from Socorro once, but that'd been a pretty long time ago. He was pretty sure he was in over his head, not that that seemed to matter all that much. 

The general tugged down Poe's pants all the way to his knees. He pressed his mouth to line of muscle between Poe's abdomen and thigh, pressed his mouth to the base of his cock, his mustache tickling, and Poe laughed and the general grinned right up at him from his knees. He licked him, just the tip of his tongue over the tip of Poe's cock that was already most of the way to hard in spite of the liquor, then he stood himself back up with a groan and unbuckled his own belt. 

"How's the bed?" the general asked. 

"Well, I haven't had the chance to sleep a full night in it," Poe replied. "I've been busy with this guy I know. Mustache. Likes the sound of his own voice." 

The general grinned. "I wasn't asking about sleeping." 

Poe laughed. "Well, I haven't gotten a chance to do that, either," he said. "Did you want to give it a try?"

And okay, so they probably should've stopped right there, but they somehow made it to the bed, shedding the rest of their clothes along the way. It was a miracle neither of them tripped over their pants or their shoes or their underwear and landed on their head or something more vital, and then they were naked, sprawling like idiots on the bedspread on a mattress that could've slept about six people, never mind two. Poe leaned over and ran one hand over the general's chest, ran it down over his belly, down to the base of his cock and somehow, in spite of the alcohol, he was already half hard, too. 

Poe stroked him. Poe leaned over and ran the pad of his thumb over the head of the general's cock and then he licked the same place with the flat of his tongue, teased it with the tip of his tongue, sealed his mouth around it and sucked for a second before he pulled back with an exaggerated pop. The general chuckled, lounging there with his arms tucked up under his head, so he did it again. Then he figured if he was going to screw things up, he'd go ahead and screw them up spectacularly; he left the bed to rummage in his luggage and came back with lubricant. The general raised his brows at him, but he didn't say no. He _really_ didn't say no. The look on his face said pretty much the opposite.

Three minutes later, Poe was on his hands and knees sinking into the stupidly soft mattress and General Calrissian was pushed up deep inside him. Four minutes after that, the door opened; two guys with blaster pistols marched right in and somehow, _somehow_ , that didn't even seem like the most surreal part of the night. 

The general stood, still naked and hard, and he turned to them with his hands on his hips. 

"Do you know who I am?" he said. The two guys in the doorway didn't look terribly impressed from where Poe was, but one of them nodded stiffly, at least. Poe wondered if he should try to discreetly reach for his blaster, but chances were one of the guys would see and that'd be it, he'd be shot where he lay. That would've needed an interesting story if he made it out alive, but he wasn't sure he felt like explaining it to General Organa.

"We know who you are," the first guy confirmed. 

"So tell me, who am I?" the general said.

"You're Lando Calrissian." 

"And who is Lando Calrissian?"

"The Baron Administrator."

"So you know what's going to happen if you don't leave this room sometime in the next ten seconds." 

"But he--"

"--is my guest. On vacation from Socorro."

"Our intelligence says--"

"I'm telling you your intelligence is wrong. Now if you don't want your ship blasting straight out of the sky, you'll leave. Right now."

They left. The door slid closed behind them. The general made a quick call to security from the comms panel by the door - they'd pick the two inept heavies up on the cameras and eject them from the city forthwith - and then he turned back to Poe.

"Nicely handled," Poe said. Because, frankly, it was. 

"Thanks," the general replied, then gave him a half-sheepish kind of smile as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "So, any chance we can forget that just happened?" 

Poe gave him a sort of lopsided smile in return, propped up on the bed on his forearms. "It kinda killed the mood," he replied, gesturing at his softening cock. "And I knew who you were the whole time, General. It's not like this comes as a surprise." 

"Sure, Commander, but are you telling me you didn't enjoy pretending like you didn't?" Poe had to admit he was right. "And under the circumstances, I think you'd better call me Lando."

Poe laughed. Lando came back to bed. And maybe they fooled around a little underneath the sheets, but fifteen minutes later they were both fast asleep.

Even now, it's a hell of a memory.

\---

When they look at him, most people see General Calrissian. They remember the things he's done. They remember the legend. Looking at him across the hangar, Poe remembers something else. 

The morning after the night they met, they both woke with hangovers roughly the size of Bespin. And Lando had someplace to be 'cause he really did run Cloud City, Baron Administrator and all, but he spent a whole hour in bed with Poe first. Poe remembers what Lando looks like underneath his clothes and his damn silly cape. He remembers the look on his face like part way between a hangover grimace and raw, stupid pleasure. He remembers the weight of Lando's cock, the heat of it, the taste, how it felt in his hand, how it felt when Lando pushed inside him for the second time, as hungover as he'd been in his life but mostly sober. He remembers Lando's mouth, kissing him, Poe's hands at Lando's back, his legs wrapped tight around his waist. He remembers how it felt when they both came, trying to take it slow 'cause it felt kinda like the repulsor lifts had failed and the whole damn city was keeling over sideways. It wasn't. They'd just drunk so much the night before they couldn't really tell the difference. 

When he looks at him, Poe remembers Lando handing over the data chip out of a hidden pocket inside his stupid, stupid cape. He remembers breakfast in a Cloud City Resort robe and thinking that was it when Lando left but somehow it wasn't, he had two more days to kill before his scheduled transport was due to leave and Lando came by that evening. He let himself in despite the heightened security protocols. He went down on his knees in front of the couch and tucked his fingers down under the waistband of Poe's pants and Lando blew him, all languid tongue and tickly mustache before they went to bed. He remembers talking over drinks in the bathtub after 'cause it really was big enough for two at the very least. He remembers dinner on the balcony overlooking the clouds. He tried on Lando's cape sometime later, still naked; it didn't look good, but it sure amused ht heck out of both of them.

"Are you going to tell this story the next time a dashing Resistance operative comes out here for intel?" Poe asked, two mornings later, before he headed to the transport. 

Lando grinned. "Maybe," he said. "Tell Leia I said to send you again next time and we'll see about that."

General Organa sent him the next time, and the time after that. And when General Calrissian visited the last time and the time after that, Poe remembers him finding him in the hangar working on his X-wing. He's pretty sure BB-8 was scandalized by what happened next. Somehow, he didn't have all that much trouble sleeping that night. 

General Calrissian catches sight of Poe across the hangar. He winks; Poe laughs and he gives a quick salute; Lando returns it with a smile. If he's read it right, he'll be seeing him tonight. He'll be seeing _him_ , not the hero, not the general.

Most people see the hero when they look at him, but Poe knows what he sees is the man. What he sees is Lando Calrissian.


End file.
